Through Darry's Eyes
by calla lilly rose
Summary: The book gave Pony's perspective. Here's how the rumble looked from Darry's vantage point.


**Through Darry's Eyes**

**The Rumble**

All rights belong to SE Hinton. Lots of cursing. Passages from_ The Outsiders_ copied without permission. Man, I hope I don't go to jail. If I do, will someone please go to my house and feed my bird and fish for me? Thanks. Calla

XXX

Man, did I ache. Stupid soc, thinking he could take me. The only one that even gave me a challenge was Paul, but just like in school, I took him down. For just one second, I wondered what Paul thought of me now - then realized I really didn't give a rats ass about it anymore. Buddies we may have been, but now, he had changed. Well, we both had. He was off to college, probably coming home on weekends, or, maybe commuting back and forth. Either way, he was living the dream I once had, while I live with the harsh realities of life; sweating for every cent I made while eking out a meager existence for myself and my kid brothers. No one said life would be easy.. or fair. And I could certainly attest to it not being fair.

In the end, it really didn't matter. Paul was no better than the rest of the uptight, good for nothing social class people he lived with, and while he may have everything he wants now, I felt reasonably confident it was all basically given to him. One day he'd have to earn it. I hoped I could be there to see it.

I looked around at the scene. Some guys lay stretched out on their backs like tossed aside mannequins while others sat around smoking. Little by little, they got to their feet. Mostly there was talk, with several derogatory things about our defeated opponents being voiced; while others bemoaned the worst of their wounds. Over in the corner, the Brumly who'd had the shit beaten out of him by his own boss was finally getting to his feet, limping away alone as if he had a tail between his legs. Defeated even in victory. I shook my head. Now, where were_ my_ guys?

Two-Bit was still whooping it up, prancing from one grease to another. Steve was finally sitting up but held his side with both hands. Soda was still by him, talking too low for me to hear. I scanned the crowd for Dally, remembering his sudden appearance was what gave Paul the opportunity he'd needed to slug me in the first place.

He really shouldn't be this hard to pick out despite the lingering crowd. Tall and lanky with one arm bandaged, he should stick out like the sore thumbs we all had. Vaguely I wondered if he'd gotten out of the hospital the legal way, or if he'd just walked out. Only jail could really pin him down. I'd looked over the place twice but didn't see him. Then I realized there was another person I didn't see, and this realization made my stomach sink.

"Soda," I called over, "seen Ponyboy?"

"Not since that shit of a soc was kicking him."

As I scanned the area and walked around looking, I remembered that part of the fight. I'd managed to get one Soc off Ponyboy already; he'd tried to take down one guy who clearly outweighed him, but before he could do anything more than annoy him like a mosquito in the summer, he'd found himself on the receiving end of a one-sided slug fest.

Of course, finding _any _Soc out here to pair him up with for a fair fight was nearly impossible. He had to have been the youngest on either side and by far the smallest. What had started out as pride at home for knowing how eager and determined he'd been to fight had quickly turned to despair as I watched him take blow after blow with no strength to fend off his attackers.

I should have known better and stuck with my instincts – he simply wasn't in any condition to fight. I'd thought about it all day at work, arguing back and forth in my head at how he'd seemed to lose the tussle with Two-Bit too easily this morning, how pale he'd looked, and how it'd been obvious when I carried him in last night that he'd lost so much weight … but I'd explained it all away. _Everything_ could be explained if you thought long and hard enough on it. But in the end, my gut was right. He'd had no business being here. Not like this. Not like he was. A week away had hurt him in ways I'd yet to figure out.

I managed to send the Soc who'd been making mince meat out of Pony's face and chest flying, getting him out of that particular jam; but it wasn't easy keeping an eye out for him while knocking down the idiots who were trying to take me out too. All I could get were glimpses of the action as it unfolded around me. I did manage to see he'd partnered with Dally and for a while they were doing okay. Sidetracked by two fools determined to take me down together, I'd lost track of everyone else until Soda whipped by me too fast for comfort, cursing like a sailor. One glance told me why.

Some douche bag of a soc had been kicking Ponyboy, and at first I couldn't understand why the devil he wasn't rolling to get out of there. Then I saw the reason... he'd had a choke hold on the guy he and Dally'd been fighting and wouldn't let go, leaving him wide open to the assault he was taking. The next glimpse I took made my stomach turn.

The kicker surged forward with a whack to Pony's temple - a direct head shot - and didn't move. I hammered the two on me and started over, but Soda was already on it. He took care of the kicker, whaling on him in such a fury I thought I was going to have to pull him off before he'd killed the kid. However, Steve yelped loudly nearby, getting Soda's attention again, and he'd headed off to help Steve. I wanted to check Ponyboy, but some fools just don't learn and the same two idiots were back at it, determined to take me down. I managed one last glance at Pony - relieved to see him moving, albeit slowly. Seconds later, with another set of hammer punches to each of their midsections, the fly's buzzing me flew off, running with the rest of their guys back to their cars, fleeing to safety.

But where was Ponyboy at now?

"Ponyboy!" I hollered around the lot. A few guys milling around looked up while most ignored me.

"Whassup, Muscles?" Two-Bit loped over, still smiling but starting to look tired. The adrenaline rush was tapering off. Looking closer, I knew it was only a matter of time before that gash in his face started to sting.

"Seen Ponyboy?"

He looked around. "Thought I saw him and ol' Dally headed off back toward your place."

That made me feel a little better. "Sounds like a good idea. You guys ready?"

"Hell yeah. Let's go." Steve sounded miffed as I threw a hand down to him while Soda had his other side.

"What's got a burr up your ass? You okay?"

"Yeah, just peachy." Despite what he'd said, he was holding his side tightly, wincing hard. His pride wouldn't let him admit to being hurt.

"You're a toughie. Suck it up."

Tim appeared just as Steve made it to his feet, coming over to talk before me and the boys headed out. His jaw would be purple tomorrow, and just like the rest of us, his knuckles were skinned raw. However, he was still steely Tim, walking unconcerned; as if leaving his job for the day. I wondered if anything would ever take him down.

"Been a blast of a night, Darrel."

"Thanks for your help, Tim."

I shook his hand and turned back to my guys just as Tim turned to take what was left of his boys back to his side of town. I didn't expect the Brumly bunch to hang around to end the formalities and didn't look for them either. I was sure that the cops would be driving through eventually, but as usual, wouldn't show until there was nothing to see anymore.

We started the trip back to my place, albeit a bit more subtly than we did when we went down there. There were no war whoops, no utterances of delight of what we were gonna do – or had done, although I doubted none of us had a single regret for whipping them. Even though this was mostly about territorial rights, it was also about Johnny and that dead Soc; and in a way, about Ponyboy too.

I didn't feel pity for that dead kid, Bob; not after finding out from police reports that he'd nearly killed Ponyboy. I'd lost enough members of my family already. I hoped Johnny would feel vindicated; if those Soc bastards hadn't come over on our turf – even with my having hit Pony (the memory still made me wince), Johnny never would have had to plant his blade in Bob's back. Might even cheer him up some to know they'd finally had their rear ends handed to them. God knows he needs something to be cheerful about. His future looks mighty bleak right now.

"You guys coming in or heading home?"

"Hell, I need my face fixed before I go home. Ma's gonna go ape shit if I go wandering in like this." Two-Bit cajoled as he reached my door first. Steve was still leaning heavily onto Sodapop so I guess he really was hurt.

"You okay there, Steve?" I asked again.

"Shut up," was his only answer. I took that as a very possible 'maybe'.

"Ponyboy, we're back. Get the first aid kit, wouldja?" Soda called down the dark hallway as he laid Steve out on the couch. "Pony? Hey, Pone, you hear me?" Soda went and tapped on the bathroom door, but it swung open an inch as he tapped on it. No one was in it. The lights were off and nothing had been touched. "Ponyboy? Where are you, kiddo?" Soda went down the hall toward their bedroom, but his sudden return said the obvious. "Darry, he ain't here."

I looked up. "He's got to be here somewhere. Go check my room." I got the medicine kit and my sewing stuff while Two-Bit stood in my bathroom, swearing under his breath as he washed the cut clean. I'd learned a long time ago that as long as cuts were cleaned really well and the bleeding stopped, I didn't have to take anyone to the hospital to get stitches. I could do them here at home myself, saving everyone a lot of dough that no one really had to begin with.

Soda turned and went, muttering all the while, "Fine, but I know he ain't here."

I heard him calling out at the far end of the house, with no answer returning. I looked in at Two-Bit again.

"You sure it was him?" I asked as he smashed a washcloth against his cheek, making the bleeding stop.

"Positive," he insisted. "Both he and Dal were headed here, looking like they were in a hurry, too."

"They ain't here now," Soda said stiffly. "And if he's with Dal, there ain't no sense in going out looking for them. They probably went back to the hospital to fill Johnny in about the rumble. He'll be back in a bit, when visiting hours are over."

"Think they'll keep Dal in the hospital this time?" Steve asked from the couch.

"Why bother?" Soda answered. "He'd just walk back out again."

"If he takes him to Bucks, I'll damage him worse than the rumble did." I said with finality. I still had a bone to pick with him for sending my kid brother and Johnny off to the middle of nowhere, then lying to me about it.

"Hey! Don't be sewing my face if you're pissed off there, Muscles!" Two-Bit was squirming under my hands

"Can it and lay still, Two-Bit." He did. For a while, only the television made noise. It was some stupid movie that held no ones attention. I finished stitching Two-Bit and sent him into the kitchen to make his own icepack. "Don't bleed all over my ice, either. Sodapop, you cut up?"

He looked up at me from the floor where he'd flopped to, and shook his head. "Nope. Just the one on my lip, but you can't sew that. Otherwise, I'm just sore as hell."

I digested that. "Steve? Cuts?"

"No. Just my ribs. I think I busted them." He opened his shirt up but all I saw was some pretty bad bruises. I felt for breaks, but didn't feel any. While bruises over the ribs do hurt like a sonofagun, he was just being a pansy.

"I think you'll live." I sat down in my chair to rest, but over the ensuing hour no matter how hard I tried to let it go, it irked me. He was supposed to be here. _Damnit, he'd already been gone a week! Now where was he? Why wasn't he calling? _

I got up and checked out the window, but he wasn't loping up the walk. I went to stand on the porch, waiting and listening for any signs, but there weren't any. It was an oddly quiet night, and I thought it strange that while the whole neighborhood had to have seen, heard, or perhaps participated in the rumble, no one wanted to be out. Even the Cade's were silent. I doubted either of his parents were at the hospital with their son. What a waste.... I would have given anything for another few minutes with my parents, yet they treated Johnny like trash. I shook my head and went back inside.

"Any sign?" Soda asked from the floor as he lay his head back against the side of the couch. Steve looked at me also, still flat out on the couch, not moving. They all had smokes hanging from their lips and I decided it wasn't worth it to get them all to take the sticks outside.

"Nope. And no one had better burn holes in my furniture."

"The kid'll be fine. Dal ain't stupid enough to do a repeat of last week." Two-Bit mumbled while nudging my leg, too tired to get up.

"He knows you'd only kill him." Steve agreed with a tired grin.

Kill him? No. Beat him senseless? Highly probable. More than once since Pony and Johnny'd gone missing, I've considered taking on Dallas … but didn't because I also knew he was the only link I had to where they were. Putting him in intensive care wouldn't help me find my brother. But now that Pony's home, I had no problem reminding him who was in charge of my brothers.

Once again, my head went through all the many things that could have happened... like some Soc's tailing them to finish the job they'd started a week ago, or Dally hauling him out of town again for some new, unknown reason.... I was going to have to lay down the law with him, make him understand this was_ my_ house and he was going to have to follow_ my _rules! I picked up my paper then sat it down again, too angry to read. All around me, the guys were lounging around, their soreness and fatigue obvious. And where was Ponyboy? Out gallivanting all over Tulsa while we'd....

The door opened and Pony slowly slinked inside. It didn't take long for me to leap to my feet again, despite the soreness I felt. Soda got up too, probably to hold me back.

"Where have you been?" I wanted to scream, but something made me stop. He looked... strange. Hurt maybe? Three shades paler than I'd ever seen him, and this time it wasn't the hair throwing his pallor off. He was looking around the place like he didn't recognize anything. "Ponyboy, what's the matter?"

His eyes crossed mine for a moment, not lingering. He blinked hard, then spoke. "Johnny.... he's dead. We told him about beatin' the Soc's and … I don't know, he just died."

Silence filled the room. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for more, but there wasn't anything more. Looking at his face – that haunting devoid expression was truth enough. And hearing him say it... it didn't even sound like him. He barely looked like he was coping with it. No one moved for the longest time, everyone registering the news in their own way.

"Dallas is gone, he ran out like the devil was after him." Pony's hand twitched and his voice hitched, his eyes still darting around. "He's gonna blow up. He couldn't take it."

"So he finally broke," Two-Bit said with a strained voice. "So even Dally has a breaking point."

All the mean, violent things I had thought of concerning Dallas and what he had done by hiding Pony and Johnny seemed so distant all of a sudden. Dally had finally allowed himself to feel something, the pain of loss – loss of a good, loyal friend. A friend we'd all been brothers to, a friend we had all tried hard to protect. A friend that in the end, was beyond our protection.

With the tarnished words Two-Bit managed out, Pony's twitch turned into a full body shiver and his eyes went huge, his lashes looking longer against the whites of his eyes. His pupils circled the room avoiding eye contact with everyone. He blinked, but there were no tears. I doubted the words he said were registering with him. I'd never seen him like this, he was starting to scare me.

It was that moment that I also realized that, while we had all experiences with death – the loss of our parents being mine and my brother's personal cross to bear, I couldn't think of anyone who had been there at the moment of passing. That is, until now. Ponyboy was there the moment Johnny'd died. Dear God in heaven, no wonder.

"Soda, sit him down." I whispered as softly as I dared. "He'll listen to you."

"Ponyboy," Soda started in a tone he hadn't used since Ponyboy'd been really little. "... you look sick. Sit down."

For perhaps the first time in his life, Pony seemed to not trust Sodapop. He stepped away, refusing to let Soda get near him.

"I'm okay. I don't want to sit down."

I started to him, real worry taking hold, but the one step I took in his direction was matched by the step he took backwards. I doubt he'd done it on purpose, but he'd put himself in a corner.

"Don't touch me."

The words froze me. It wasn't him. It looked like him, vaguely sounded like him, but this was _not_ my youngest brother. For the slightest moment, I thought about rushing him, forcing him to me and making him sit. Even Steve had moved off the couch, stepping carefully around us toward the kitchen. Two-Bit had also moved to somewhere behind me, and I knew Sodapop hadn't left. Two things concerned me... our blades that were laying on the side table easily within his reach, and the front door that I was pretty sure he'd try to make a run for.

While waiting, trying to figure out the best way to handle this, the phone rang._ Christ, not now!_ Answer it, don't answer it... I didn't know what to do. Finally, I stepped back, giving Pony more room and hopefully letting him calm down some.

"Hello."

_"Darry? I fucked up, man. I seriously fucked up. Johnny... Aw God.. Johnny.... I … Shit. I just held up some stupid grocery store... but the guy … I ain't got no bullets! Sonofabitch called the cops on me! I'm heading your way, the lot... man. I'm going to the lot!"_

He must have hung up, cause the line went dead. Wherever he was, sirens were in the background and getting louder.

"It was Dally..." As I told them what happened, I watched Pony from the corner of my eye. His attention came back strong as I explained as quickly as I could what Dal had said, and was bolting for the door like the rest of us before I could finish. We'd already lost one … none of us wanted to lose another.

As we tore off down the street, I wasn't really sure what I was gonna do exactly. I couldn't hide him at my place... the State would snatch Pony and Soda faster than they could blink if I harbored a fugitive in my house. And the guys couldn't keep him at their houses either. I still hadn't come up with an idea by the time the sirens sounded in the distance, and as Dallas crested over the street across from the lot, I still was at a loss. However, the blue lights behind him had lit up the area and I knew the chase was over.

Did he see us? Did he know we were there? Did he care, or was he past caring again? He yanked something from his jeans waistband and held it out, daring them on. We all saw it at the same time, each of our voices screaming out in protest.

"No! Dallas don't!"

"Don't shoot!"

"He didn't mean it!"

"No, God no!"

"Don't do this, please Dally!"

In the end, the cops had their way and the sounds of lead being fired off filled the air. The stench of gunpowder choked us all. Dallas's body rotated before falling and as he hit the ground, I knew it was over.

I shook, the scene before me surreal. This didn't happen... but it did!

The cops had holstered their weapons and started for the body, one or two of them looking our way as if wondering if we would retaliate somehow. Steve lurched forward, shaking and crying, and I saw an officer put his hand on his weapon again, ready to squeeze a few more rounds off if necessary. I doubted Soda saw him, too intent on Steve. He had him by the shoulders before Steve took more than a step.

"Easy, buddy, easy; there's nothing we can do now."

He was right. There was nothing we could do here, and watching Dallas's blood seep out onto the pavement wouldn't bring him or Johnny back. It wouldn't give that store clerk back his money, and it wouldn't make the bruises covering each of us go away. We needed to leave. _I_ wanted to leave. I wanted to get the hell out of Tulsa and …

"Glory, look at the kid!"

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone move - not forward, but down. Crumpled. I'd felt him brush my feet as he collapsed to the concrete. Something told me who it was before I'd even turned my head the whole way. "Ponyboy?"

As fast as I was, Soda still managed to beat me to his side. He was on one side of him, one hand fisted his shirt while the other cradled his head. "Ponyboy? God no.. Pone? Honey, open your eyes!"

Nothing. "Ponyboy, wake up. C'mon, kiddo, wake up." I felt for a pulse, it was there, strong under my finger, but the rest of him was like jelly. As fast as it happened, all our attention moved from Dallas's situation to Ponyboy's. Two-Bit bent down, patting his legs while Steve leaned over, unable to help at all.

"That kid okay?" a stranger called over. Turning my head a little to look, one of the officers was headed over, his hand on his baton as he swaggered. Fury engulfed me but I held it in check. However, he would have to put me in jail before I'd let him near my family.

"He's fine, officer." I yelled back. The cop stopped and looked at us. I wasted no time, picking up Pony and began to leave, Soda and the guys close behind. The cop didn't follow, didn't ask if we needed help and didn't insist we stop. We were bystanders, not even worthy to be witnesses.

"What are you doing?" Soda demanded.

"Going home." I said evenly. I didn't look at him, I knew he was unconscious. One glance would break me and I couldn't afford it right then. He lay motionless in my arms, one of his thin arms curled against his chest, the other dangling strangely at his side while his spindly legs brushed and bounced against my hip the whole way home.

It wasn't exactly a silent trip back, although no words were spoken. Sniffles sounded off sporadically on either side of me, a sob or two escaped from both Steve and Two-Bit. I steeled myself, focusing on my front porch light and thought of nothing else but getting home. Get home and lock the door. Bolt it shut. Unplug the phone, yank the cord out if necessary.

"Get the fence," I monotoned. Soda did and I took the steps quickly, getting inside without remembering much of the walk back. I didn't stop until I had him on his bed and sat next to him, finally able to concentrate on him and him alone.

"What can we do?" Steve asked. I wondered when he'd arrived.

"Get the first aid box."

Soda took his other side, holding his hand while gently trailing his fingers through his hair. I noticed him silently wiping away a tear from his face as his eyes scanned Pony's still features. I, however, refused to give in to emotion. Not yet.

"Darry? Darry... this ain't good."

I looked over. Soda's hand was streaked with blood. Fresh blood. On the side of Pony's head was a dark smear that I'd seen before the phone call, but hadn't paid it attention. Now Soda was closely checking his head, his fingers getting bloodier as he did so.

"Darry...." Soda's tone was one of fear, and fear was not a tone I liked from him.

"Let me see. Get a flashlight."

"I got it," Two-Bit called from the foot of the bed. He was gone and back before I knew it.

I felt the same spot, just above his ear but hidden in the hairline. Not only was the swelling bad, it was cut too. The bleeding had started up again. It felt wrong. I couldn't fix this.

I stopped searching through his hair and leaned my forehead on his, a miserable tear refusing to be kept at bay. It fell from my eye onto his cheek.

"Pony, oh kiddo, why didn't you stay at home? Why?"

Silence behind me, then....

"Darry?" It was Steve.

"Soda, get the keys to the truck."

He stared at me for only a second, then was off. I pulled Pony to me again, lifting him easily and headed back to the door. Two-Bit had gotten ahead of me.

"We'll follow. We won't be far behind."

XXX

Calla Lily Rose

A/N Initially, I wasn't going to post this. But it wouldn't stop coming out, and I couldn't stop typing. Then, what to do with it? So I figure, what the hey? Post it. So here it is.


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